


Morning After

by FrankiValerie



Series: After Omega [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Mild Smut, Post-Reaper War, Romance, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankiValerie/pseuds/FrankiValerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've posted this before and taken it down for review/re-write. </p><p>This is the final copy! I'm posting it one Chapter at a time.</p><p>I'm likely to use some of the one shots I've already posted in this series as I'm marrying all related works together into one novel length work... and then another one I've called "Relapse" but may just stick it on the end of this, depending on the flow. </p><p>This work started off as a really inspiring RP storyline from Twitter.  Caleb is not my character though I have permission and even encouragement from his creator to use him in my writing - we're both super mega fans of this pairing and have dubbed it Jaleb. </p><p>We hope you love Jaleb as much as we do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Mature for strong language and violence (Jack... duh!)
> 
> Relationships included are either in the current storyline, suggested in flashbacks or background. There won't be super smut for every relationship added here!

The bed sheets were tangled around her ankles; a sign of a restless sleep. She was naked, cold, and there was an odd dryness in her mouth that made her tongue feel fuzzy.  She was used to it.

She was alone. No warm body to keep the cold at bay.  She wasn’t as used to that.  Not recently.  She felt pain grumble in her stomach but pushed it away – now wasn’t the time to start missing Lieutenant James Vega.  She had, however, expected a different body in her bed.  Where was he?  This was his fucking apartment, right? Her head was fuzzy from the excessive drinking of the night before, but no hangover. She never got hangovers.

She untangled the sheets from her legs, got up and instead wrapped the fabric around her in a half-assed makeshift toga, gathering the bottom and leaving the bedroom to look for her host.

The bathroom door was closed but not locked.

“You in there?” she called, knocking twice.  No answer.  No sound of running water.

This wasn’t like him.  She wondered if there was someone else now.  Someone he cared for more than he ever cared for her.  Someone who would be pissed if they found her naked in his apartment. 

She grunted, told herself she didn’t care, and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her and shrugging off the sheet. 

What would she do if he had found someone else; if he no longer wanted her as fiercely as he had in the past?  Was she truly that easy to get over? To forget?  Had everything he’d said in the past meant nothing? 

She furrowed her brow, switching on the shower.  He would have said something, surely.  Maybe she wasn’t remembering right.  She thought back and as the fog in her head faded away, she remembered their dancing; his hands on her waist, her hands stroking down his neck, their lips so close to touching.  More than that, she remembered the sincerity in his touch. 

She also remembered a couple Krogan almost running them down and then the two of them making the bastards pay with their lives.  Kicking ass and taking names.  Just like old times. 

After that he took her somewhere quieter for a couple more drinks and they’d talked.  She couldn’t recall what they talked about.  And after that, it was all… vague.  Just snips of images, no meaning or words to them.  

She pulled out her hair tie and stepped under the water.  She convinced herself she wasn't upset by her host’s sudden departure.  That she’d expected it.  That’s who he was.  It had been different with her, sure, but not anymore it seemed.  Now he was just another asshole and she was just another fuck.  She used him to relieve her tension and was foolish enough to let him drag her away to a time before Shepard and before Vega. Especially before Vega.

* * *

The Grissom Academy Students all seemed to have calmed now, after their narrow escape from Cerberus and their first real firefight, but Jack’s heart was still thumping; adrenaline was pumping through her, she was restless and couldn’t settle. She massaged her aching knuckles as she paced in the Normandy’s shuttle bay, entirely aware though uncaring of her student’s stares and their concerned whispers. Killing Cerberus always did this to her. Well, killing anything… but with Cerberus it was a much sweeter rush - the rush of vengeance. She needed something to calm her. Something sweeter, hotter, more solid, something to give her a release.

“Ey, Esteban! You ever gonna stop working?”

“When you least expect it, Mr. Vega!” 

Her eyes darted up to see Shepard’s newest crew member jump up onto a pull-up bar opposite a work bench. 

So all that mass wasn’t just the armor… And right there was the something hot and solid she needed. 

“Stay here, kids.” she barked at them, without taking her eyes off the Lieutenant, remembering his comment to Shepard when they met; “I dunno, Loco… I kinda like her.” 

She marched over and stepped right in front of him, arms folded. He froze, hanging from the bar, looking surprised and a little too happy, “Whoa, Jack I--”

“Do 30 pull-ups, then come up to the engineering sub-deck for a REAL workout. Understand, Muscles?” 

She didn’t wait for him to respond. If he didn’t follow, she could work out all on her own. But he would. He’d be fucking stupid not to, and she could tell he recognised that. 

She headed straight up to engineering and down into her old hidey hole. Her bunk was missing but the work bench she’d fucked Shepard on before the Omega 4 relay was still there. 

Admittedly, she was still a little surprised to hear heavy boots rushing down the metal stairs behind her only moments after she’d descended them herself. They were accompanied by heavy breathing and she turned to catch a glimpse of Vega removing his shirt before he pulled her in and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Their teeth clacked together, she turned him and pushed him toward the wall, slamming him against the wall and dragging her nails down his toned chest. 

He pushed off her jacket and she pulled back, flicking her tongue against his lips, enticing a low, needing groan then nibbled down his jaw to his neck.  He moved his arms around to grab her ass, she reached between their hungry bodies to unfasten his belt, then his pants, grinning at his second low groan as her fingertips grazed the hardening bulge within his boxers.

He whispered in her ear, “Fuck, Bella…” and spun her again, pushing her against the work bench and onto her back, expertly flicking open her belt and tearing her pants down her hips 

* * *

Vega seemed to have waltzed into her life, made her feel like a Goddess in human form and turned their amazing, no strings, stress relieving fucking into a committed relationship. She had felt safe, secure, wanted and cared for, for the first time she could remember. And she’d given herself entirely to him, mind, body and soul… she’d made her mark on him and put his mark amongst the tapestry of her life that was her heavily tattooed skin. 

And then he’d torn her down.  His security had become a prison, his want became obsession and worst of all, he turned quickly to jealousy.  Even harmless flirting with her best friend, Kasumi Goto, he had considered a betrayal of his trust and affection.  In the end he had broken it off, out of the blue, saying he couldn’t trust her anymore. 

There was a stinging behind her eyes and she realised there were tears flowing down her cheeks. She closed her eyes tight shut and swore, punching the tiled wall in front of her. The contact cut her knuckles and she felt warm blood trickling through her fingers. 

“Jack? You okay?”

Hearing the male voice through the door made her step back and she slipped, grabbing hold of the shower curtain which ripped under the added weight. She fell hard onto the bathroom floor and swore. Her host rapped hard on the door, “Jack?” 

“I’m fucking fine!” She called back, trying to sound like she was indeed fine, but her voice betrayed her intentions and broke. It definitely sounded like she was crying. 

“Unlock the door, then!” He barked.

She scowled up at the door, sitting up and rubbing her head, “Fuck, no! I’ll be out in a sec.” That time she'd managed to sound sufficiently annoyed. 

There's silence on his end for a brief moment while she makes a racket getting up, cursing more. 

“You're not okay.” He said, matter-of-factly, then stepped back from the door. She faintly heard his footsteps walking away from the door. 

She didn't bother with towels, just wrapped the bed sheet around herself again, and picked up the torn shower curtain, dumping it back into the shower.  She turned off the water, turning to the sink to wash her hand instead. 

Caleb Ortez was her oldest friend.  The only friend she could recall from before her time with Shepard who she hadn’t killed.  A friend who hadn’t used her then fucked her over.  Though he had fucked her over and over and over again, on several separate occasions.  He could read her better than anyone ever could.  And he was right; she wasn't okay. 

She hated the feelings which crept up on her when she thought about Vega. She hated that she missed him like a severed limb. She hated that she felt so guilty about spending a whole day (and night) with Caleb. About running away. If he knew… 

She felt tears welling up again and clenched her bleeding fist, using the pain to distract her, and make her mad again. 

And why shouldn't she be mad? 

He'd built up this pedestal and perched her on top of it, making her feel untouchable, immune to anything and everything life could throw at her, then just as quickly he'd torn it down and she'd fallen further, fallen back into her old mind set; paranoid, untrusting with the old overwhelming urges to smear someone – anyone - across the walls, constantly on that fine line between a nervous breakdown and a homicidal rampage. Usually she was undecided which one was the better to fall into, though this time the homicidal rampage had won. Thanks to Tortugan influences. 

Caleb had a habit of turning up when she was on that edge. She couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not, but she had almost come to expect his presence when she was at her lowest.

Last time she wasn’t even sure he had been real. Like she'd been imagining him this whole time, a strong guy who was a mirror of herself in so many ways and he was just yet another symptom of her growing insanity. This time she was only 80% sure he was actually sitting in the other room.

She unlocked the door and yanked it open, glaring at him hard, making sure he wasn't some hallucination or mirage. Caleb had a rugged handsomeness.  Tall, muscular but not a brick shit house like Vega.  He had short, dark hair and deep brown eyes.  Right now he was sporting a 5 o clock shadow.  He always looked better with a little facial hair. 

He was sat on the edge of the bed, tucking into some kind of sandwich. He looked up at her and glared back just as intensely. 

“What?” He grunted.

“I need a bandage or some medi-gel. Cut my hand.” She muttered back, never breaking eye contact. 

He didn't either, didn't dare look away as he stood up and made his way over. He pushed past her, stepping around to her other side and grabbing her wrist. 

She was the one to break the stare, finally; her hand burned and she wanted to be taken care of. His heated grip calmed her, though she still felt like she was teetering on a tight-rope over her most extreme, and most dangerous of emotions.

He took a good look at her hand then applied a splash of medi-gel. The smell and familiar dull sting of healing flesh was a huge comfort. His grip softened as she relaxed and he looked back to her face. She felt too vulnerable to look at him, suddenly very aware that she was soaking wet with only a thin white sheet covering her nakedness. A white sheet that was also wet and therefore bordering on see-through. 

She turned sideways and took her hand back, “Thanks...” then left the bathroom and ventured to retrieve her clothes from wherever she would have thrown them last night. 

Though it seemed Caleb had picked them up off the floor and instead laid them out on the bed for her. 

She snatched them up and spun back around to retreat back into the bathroom but she bumped into him, chest to chest. Before she could react he has his arms around her shoulders, and he pulled a large bath sheet around her, tight, warm and secure. She wouldn't let herself feel that way again, not so soon after the pain.  Not while the pain was still there. She couldn't let it happen. Not ever again. 

“Fuck off!” She pushed out of his grip and barged into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door between them before he had a chance to see the tears rolling down her cheeks again.

Caleb had been everything to her once before. She’d sent him a message before she flew with Shepard and the Normandy through the Omega 4 rely, saying to him everything she had wanted to say for so long; she loved him. She was going to be fighting not for her own survival, not because it was what she was made for and definitely not because human colonists were being abducted.  That was Shepard’s job.

She would be fighting for a chance to see him again. And she didn’t get it.  So much happened between destroying the Collector base and the present – she’d had no time to see him.  And he’d never replied to her message.  She brushed it off at the time, put it down to _how he was_. 

She dared to look into the mirror. She didn't see the calm and collected teacher Jack she had become so used to seeing... She saw the unstable, afraid, vulnerable psychotic biotic; Subject Zero. Tear stained cheeks, quivering lower lip, eyes wide with worry. 

She tore herself away and turned her back, doubling over, arms over her head, head tucked into her knees, and slowly slid to the floor. She sat for a good while, curled into herself as tightly as she could stand, breathing deeply. 

Jack had been able to keep all this emotion at bay since storming off the Normandy by feeding off that homicidal part of her - a part that had lain dormant, and had bloomed into life as soon as she set foot on Omega. Now that its appetite was sated again, it had retreated back into the dark recesses of her being, making way for these raw, built up feelings and now they were suffocating her. She was drowning. She needed to reach out and grab something stable, something past the surface, and pull like hell, leaving all this pain behind. She'd done it before. Numerous times. This time she'd just have to reach further and pull harder. 

Determined to find her stable hook, Jack shook herself hard, lurched back up on her feet, threw on her clothes and flung the bathroom door open again, surprised, still, to see Caleb hadn't left. She didn’t hide it well. He frowned at her, "I had gotten some breakfast for you but it's probably cold by now. You're fucking welcome." He nodded toward a brown paper bag sat on a small table near the door.  

Despite everything they’d been through in the past, she still was mostly convinced that he wasn't real. Despite having touched and tasted him on multiple occasions, she still believed herself to be fucked up enough to have entirely invented a whole person - practically identical to her in almost every way - but stronger, with a better handle on his feelings... And hers.

“You got a ship now, right?” She finally said.

He raised an eyebrow at the question, “Yeah."

“Could you take me back to Grissom Academy?” Her students would be her stable hook.  They had been before.  They could be again 

Caleb still just stared, analyzing her. 

“I’ll give you creds for fuel or supplies or… shit…” 

“I don’t want your creds, Jack. But are you ready to leave?”

He saw right through her… asshole. 

“I’m ready to go back out there and obliterate Omega, but I gotta get back to my students. They’re... my stability.” 

“You’re not gonna attach to that hook if you’re still on the edge, Jack.” 

Fuck his excellent fucking observations, fuck. 

She scowled at him, infuriated again, though she knew he was right. 

“I… I don’t wanna get mad anymore. I wanna move on...” 

He got up and headed for the door, holding it open for her, “So then we’ll go.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the final version of this chapter. Please comment and leave kudos, hopefully have more added soon -- there's just so much editing to do!


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